No Quarter
by DreamBrother
Summary: Alt. take on Season 4 ep Chinese Box. Guess who replaces David inside the elevator? Chapter 3 of 3 up now. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**Numb3rs isn't mine, and the episode I've distorted was written by the brilliant Ken Sanzel.

**Author's Note:**My holiday present for the Official Don Whumper Club (you know who you are). Oh, and wouldn't you know it, Liz somehow disappears from my stories. It's magic, I tell you!

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**No Quarter**

**I**

"Hey, Colby," called out Don. "The SAC kicked this back," he said, waving the folder he held in his hands.

"Again?" replied Colby with a touch of disbelief as he accepted the folder from his boss and flipped it open to see what was wrong, similar to an ambitious high school student wondering why they'd gotten an F when they should have gotten an A.

"Yeah, they wanna know where we're out on the title 3's," Don answered, going over to his chair and grabbing his jacket before shrugging into it.

"We heading out?" asked Megan as she approached.

"You guys going to the stash house?" asked David as he sauntered in behind Megan.

"Yeah, but we're going to pick up breakfast first," replied Don.

"Lumberjack special, double the pancakes, please," piped up Colby.

"David?" Megan asked.

"California scramble for me, thanks," said the bald-headed man.

"You got it," replied Megan as she and Don made their way towards the row of elevators.

Downstairs, Alan and Charlie had just made it past security and were somewhat patiently waiting for an elevator car headed up. Charlie, in the meanwhile, entertained his father with a short lecture on the Elevator Paradox:

"…. so, if we were standing here for several hours, we would b-," Charlie elucidated but was interrupted by his father:

"Saved by the bell," butted in Alan thankfully, as said sound resounded in their ears.

The elevator doors dinged open to reveal Megan and Don standing in the car. The two agents smiled as they recognized who were standing in front of them, waiting for them to get out:

"Hey guys," greeted Megan with a wide smile.

"Hey, didn't know you two were coming down. What's the special occasion?" asked Don as he and Megan stepped out of the elevator car.

"My publisher wants a few photos of me in the FBI bull-pen," explained Charlie with a shy, embarrassed smile. "Sounds tacky, I know, but my publisher is more ruthless than Dad here."

"Hey!" protested Alan as his sons and Megan grinned. "I'm a very easy-going person. What do you mean, ruthless?"

Realizing that other people were trying to meander their way through the group of four to get into the neglected elevator, they moved a few steps away towards the front doors and the security standpoint.

"Ruthless? Never, Dad," answered Don. "Except for, you know… marriage."

"Grandkids," offered Charlie.

"Taking some days off…,"

"Grandkids," supplied Charlie again, helpfully.

Alan rolled his eyes at this bombardment from his sons and looked to Megan for help who jumped in willingly:

"Hey, I'm actually with Alan on the 'taking a few days off' issue. In fact, I'm headed back East in a few weeks," she informed Alan and Charlie.

"Oh really?" queried Alan with a curious tone.

"You know, Larry mentioned something about heading east himself for a bit," said Charlie with a cheeky grin.

"Ah, still going strong, huh? David will be happy to know he's won twenty bucks off Colby," commented Don.

"You guys bet on me?" Megan asked, a tiny threat in her tone. "Whose side did you bet on?"

"Me? My parents taught me never to bet on ladies, thank you very much," replied Don with a grin towards his father, but to Charlie, he said in a stage whisper audible to all: "Granger owes me twenty too."

As Megan playfully punched Don on the arm, the sounds of a man running reached their ears, along with the metal detector's shrill tone and the security guard's "Hey!"

Before their very eyes, the man clad in a beige jacket pulled out a gun and shot an FBI agent standing only a few feet away, once in the chest and once in the stomach. As Don and Megan pulled their weapons and Don reached out with one arm to pull Alan back, he wasn't quick enough to yank Charlie, who was standing closest to the bank of elevators, away.

Charlie, amidst all the chaos, confusion and screams that had been ignited by the first shot and escalated by the second, barely had any advance warning before he felt the gunman's arm loop from behind him to around his neck. Reflexively, his hands came up to grip the forearm which was pressing against his throat and pulling him inside the elevator car. Eyes widened with fear, he could see a swarm of gun-wielding people in front of him; agents with their weapons all pointed in his general direction. Closest to the elevator was Don, with Megan a bit further back and to the left, his father standing, looking horrified, behind her.

"Drop the weapon. Drop the weapon now and let him go," ordered Don as he aimed at the bald man's head, making sure his eyes didn't wander to his brother.

"This is _not_ my fault," shouted the man, close enough to Charlie's ear to make him wince. "I acted in self defence."

"Self defence from whom? Who's trying to hurt y-," asked Megan but she was interrupted:

"From you, from all of you, you won't leave me alone," he yelled, his gun pointed a bit too low to the ground to be very threatening.

Don used the distraction posed by Megan to shift closer to the elevator until he was standing inside with his foot stopping the doors from closing. A quick flick of his eyes had showed his brother was watching him carefully but was quite willing to let the professionals do their job. At the moment, Don didn't really care what the man's reasoning was for coming into a federal building and start shooting; his priority was getting his brother far, far away from this madman.

"Okay, you- just-. Sir, just tell me what you need," asked Megan patiently, her voice trying to calm the man.

"'What I need?'" asked the man, his brow creasing, his tone revealing the fact that he hadn't quite thought about what he wanted.

Don realized with dread that this man had just walked in on impulse, with no consideration for the future or the consequences of his actions. A man without an agenda always posed more of a danger than a man with. At least they had the decency to be somewhat predictable.

"You need a hostage," Don filled in for the man, who took this as an instruction and shifted the gun's aim away from Megan to jab it into Charlie's side, whose eyes, if it was possible, widened further.

"You need _a_ hostage," Don emphasized on the numbers. "Now you have two. It won't be easy, keeping an eye on both of us. Your attention will be divided, which means you'll make more mistakes, that much sooner. Is that what you want?" Behind him, he could hear the uncertainty in Megan's voice as she said his name, protesting his giving himself up as a hostage and questioning his plan of action.

"I'll kill him," threatened the shooter, his matter-of-fact tone in sharp contrast to the hysteria in his voice earlier on.

"You do that, and I'll make your life more of a misery than you ever thought possible," countered Don, the look in his eyes confirming his promise.

The man considered this. "I'll let him go if you let the door go."

"No, we can't do that," jutted in Megan before Don had a chance to reply.

"_Yes_, we can," said Don, directing it more at Megan. He nodded to the hostage taker. "You've got a deal. Now let him go."

The shooter waited for only a moment before turning the gun on Don and giving Charlie a hard shove in the back, sending him stumbling towards Megan who reached out one arm and pushed him behind her where Alan grabbed Charlie tightly by the arms.

"I'm ready to die. Are you? _Are you_?" shouted the gunman, his hysteria returning. Don returned his gaze calmly, making good on his word as he stepped further into the elevator.

The last glimpse everyone had as the doors started to close was of two guns pointed straight at each other.

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Inside the elevator car, Don watched as the man in front of him reached to his left towards the elevator buttons and pushed the emergency stop, the brakes bringing the car to a squealing stop.

"Alright. What now?" Don asked, in an almost bored tone of voice.

"I- I- just need a minute to think. Just let me think, alright?"

"Don Eppes," offered Don.

"What?" the gunman said, puzzled.

"Don Eppes. While you're thinking, might as well know my name. I'd hate to be referred to as 'the FBI dude holding the gun' in your head."

"Ben Blakely," reciprocated Ben.

"Alright, Ben, think away, I'll be right here," replied Don, careful to keep all aggression and tension to a minimum. It wouldn't do to be stuck in a box with a twitchy gunman. "Take all the time you need."

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_Damn. Damndamn__damn_, thought Megan as she holstered her weapon. She turned her head to the right to look at Alan and Charlie who, for a moment, had their gazes fixed on the closed elevator doors. Megan's voice jolted them to the present:

"Charlie, are you alright?" she asked. The nod she received as a reply was enough for her to move on to other things. She was surrounded by many agents, but it was her boss who was being held hostage, albeit very willingly, and so, it was her command. She quickly walked towards the downed agent, kneeling on the floor next to him:

"Hey, hanging in there?" she asked the bald-headed man. She had seen him once or twice around the office, but working in different departments, she had not really gotten to know him well. She didn't even know his name.

The downed agent nodded, even as sweat covered his brow.

"I've already called the paramedics, and SWAT has been mobilized," said the agent who was keeping pressure on the man's wounds. Megan nodded her thanks and got up, reaching for the cell-phone on her belt.

"Colby, we have a problem. Get David and meet me on the ground floor." Hanging up before Colby had an opportunity to get a word in, she was faced by the double threat of the Eppes family members still on this floor:

"What can I do?" Charlie asked, a look in his eyes reminiscent of the case two years ago where a hunt for a crystal meth ring had turned into a search for a sexually abused child. During that time, Megan had had to deal with the guilt of losing an agent under her command while Charlie was confronted with the knowledge that when he was a child, he had an opportunity to help someone in a similar position as the little girl, but didn't. It was determination that Megan saw, touched with anger and self-hate.

"Charlie, Alan, right now I need you two to go upstairs and stay there. When we have something for you, I promise, I will come to you. But until then, you need to stay out of the way, okay?" Megan motioned to an agent who came over, and told him: "Take them to the war room and make sure the SAC is informed of the situation."

Relieved that Charlie and Alan didn't put up a protest at being herded away, Megan was able to put to rest her responsibility towards Don of their safe-keeping for the moment to focus on other things. An elevator bell chimed and preceded the arrival of David and Colby who got off the elevator with identical looks on confusion at the scene in front of them.

"Megan?" queried David's deep, rich voice.

"We've got a hostage situation. A man barged in, shot an agent," she pointed towards the wounded man now being cared for by the paramedics, "took Charlie hostage and got into an elevator. Short version is, Don exchanged himself, and now he and the shooter are in that elevator. " She pointed to the appropriate one.

It took a moment for the two men to digest so much information, but it was David who spoke first: "Don let himself be taken hostage? What was he thinking?"

"Yeah, if any one of us had done that, we'd be looking at desk work for a year," commented Colby as he looked around.

"I know but… it was Charlie. The rules don't apply."

"Charlie okay?" asked Colby.

"Physically, yeah. Mentally… he's with Alan in the war room. Hopefully, he'll be able to pull a rabbit out of his hat this time too," replied Megan.

"What do you need us to do?" asked David, speaking for both himself and his partner.

"SWAT's on its way here. Colby – you co-ordinate with them. David, I need you to interview the agent who was shot. The gunman said something weird, that he did this out of self-defence; that the FBI was after him. Look into that angle, yeah?"

"You got it," said David and began walking towards the agent who had, by now, been loaded onto a stretcher, pulling out his notebook as he did so.

Taking a deep breath, Megan ran a hand through her hair before turning on her heels and walking towards the SWAT leader headed her way.

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Alan hovered at the doorway, neither fully in nor out of the war room where sat his youngest son. Multiple monitors around the bull-pen were broadcasting the feed from the camera inside the elevator. His eldest's dark head was easily recognizable as he stood face to face with an armed man. Nervousness had him shifting his feet back and forth, continually looking from one son to the other.

"So somebody can just walk into the FBI and start shooting people?" asked Alan incredulously as he saw three men clad in SWAT gear troop towards the bank of elevators and pry open the doors of the one to the far left.

"Yeah, it seems to happen every year or so around here. Not surprising, considering the number of people who carry weapons here and the amount of criminals associated with this building…," muttered Charlie as he rummaged through his bag, hoping that his father wouldn't note that his hands were shaking. Whether it was a residual effect of the adrenal response when he was being held hostage, or out of fear and concern for his brother, Charlie wasn't sure.

"Don's going to be ok?"

To his credit, Charlie paused only for a second in his writing before answering:

"Probabilistically."

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"So what do you think is going on outside, Ben?" Don asked when the silence had stretched too long.

"Your people are getting ready to kill me, that is what's going on," replied Ben, in a rebellious tone.

"Yeah, well what did you expect, walking into a federal building, guns blazing, taking hostages?" Don shot back.

"I _didn't_ think," said the man, stating the obvious. "I just wanted it to stop."

"Wanted what to stop, Ben?" asked Don. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well get some answers.

"The spying, the following, the complete and total lack of privacy," listed Blakely. "I told Devane over and over-."

"Devane? He the agent you shot?"

"Yes. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen." Blakely paused for a second. "What do you think they'll do now?"

"They, as in, my people?" Don clarified.

"Yes."

"Well, to be honest, Ben, I kinda hope they get something to eat first. My partner and I were on our way to get breakfast before you came barging in. One thing you should probably know: hungry FBI agents? They can get quite testy. I'd tread carefully if I were you."

As if on cue, a bell chimed inside the elevator and a voice came over the intercom:

"Mr. Blakely, this is Agent Megan Reeves."

**TBC**

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I thought it would be a good idea to stop here because a) it was getting too long, and b) I felt I was transcipting the episode.

Constructive criticism would really be great on this one, any advice or thoughts on where I'm going wrong. Neverthessless, I will finish this, it should be done in two more chapters, max, and before next year :-)


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**Numb3rs isn't mine, and 'Chinese Box' is the product of Ken Sanzel's mind.

**Author's Note:**Thank you all for the feedback, which was both helpful and encouraging. Sorry for the delay; a brother attempting to shove crushed ice down your back is distracting. He's watching Brave-heart right now, so some respite (but he better not get any ideas…)

[puts on negotiating hat

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**No Quarter **

**II**

"Mr. Blakely, this is Agent Megan Reeves." As Megan spoke, she could see the reaction of the hostage taker on the flat screen in front of her: Scrunched up eyes, increased tension in the shoulders all told her that the intrusion wasn't welcome. Tough. "To talk, all you need to do is press the call button." When Blakely made no indication of moving towards the panel to respond, she continued: "First things first, Mr. Blakely, I want you to understand that we will do whatever possible to resolve this situation peacefully. No one else needs to get hurt. Now, you said downstairs that your actions were out of self-defence. Care to explain?"

On the screen, the figure that was Ben Blakely shuffled sideways towards the panel and reached out with one hand to punch the call button, all the while keeping his eyes on Don. His voice, however, came through the speaker phone Megan had employed for the conversation:

"I don't want to talk right now; I just need time to think," said Blakely.

"That's all very well, Mr. Blakely, but I'd really prefer it if you'd not point a gun at Agent Eppes in the meanwhile," responded Megan.

"He's fine," replied Blakely. His next words were quieter, directed towards Don: "Tell them you're fine."

Don complied: "Everything's all good in here, Megan."

Megan knew Alan and Charlie were standing behind her; their reflection could be seen in the flat-screen if she squinted hard enough. They were close enough to hear the dialogue, but kept a respectable distance from the SWAT leader Tim King and Colby. At Don's words, Megan distinctly heard Alan sigh. If she had to guess, she would say it was because of Don's ability to describe a hostile situation, such as the one he was in at the moment, as 'all good'.

"Satisfied?" asked Blakely. Without waiting for an answer, he began to reach towards the camera. "Now, I don't like being watched, and I'll talk when I feel like talking." And within moments of each other, he pulled the wire from the camera, turning the picture on the flat-screen dark, and punched the call button, effectively bringing his side of the conversation to an end.

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Don watched passively as Ben terminated contact. It had been a perfect opportunity to act; Ben's eyes were elsewhere, his grip on the gun slackened, and he was occupied, if only for a tiny moment. Yet, Don had resisted. He couldn't bring himself to shoot the man, and an attempt to disarm him physically might have resulted in Ben's gun accidentally going off, and in such close quarters, with the walls of the elevators as they were, both were vulnerable to ricochets.

"Turning the camera off is just going to make them more jittery, Ben," admonished Don. _Especially Charlie 'I Need More Data!' Eppes,_ he thought.

"Yeah, well, I'll take my chances," replied Ben.

Don licked his lips before speaking. "What did Devane do to you that made you think you had to shoot him to protect yourself?"

"He had people watching me, following me, _all_ the time. He wouldn't stop. Do you know what it's like? To not have any privacy, not know who's spying on you?" Ben asked.

"Well… not personally, but I'm sure half the celebrities in L.A feel your pain. But the thing is, I don't see them shooting the paparazzi."

Ben snorted. "You're comparing my problem with that of some flashy, anorexic stars? I just wanted to be left alone. I _d__id_ the surveillance for the FBI; Devane had no right to turn it around on me."

"Why didn't you come to us, then? If you're so sure that Devane was in the wrong, why not report him? The FBI consists of more than one agent, you know," said Don.

Ben shook his head, becoming agitated. "As if you'd believe some sub-contractor over an agent."

"Actually, Ben, we would have investigated. You work in this gig long enough; you realize that not everyone wearing a gun and badge deserves it."

"One FBI agent already screwed me over; destroyed my life's work. What makes you think I'm going to trust the likes of you again? You'll just cover everything up; protect your own," challenged Ben.

Don sighed, resisting the temptation to run a hand through his hair. At the moment, he needed to focus on steadying his weapon. He was actually quite surprised that Ben had managed to keep it steady as long as he had; it took experience and practice to get used to holding a weapon up for long periods of time.

"Over the summer, we found evidence that one of my team-members was a spy, working for the Chinese. He was in prison for almost two months, and he nearly got killed before we figured out that actually, he was on our side all along." Don smiled sardonically. "You know, I can't really say anything to make you trust a fed, but believe me when I tell that, for all that we dislike losing face, we hate being betrayed more. And if Devane _is_ guilty of something, than he's no better than the people we go after."

Ben chewed his lip, his eyes wandering. He did not respond directly to Don's revelation, instead choosing to comment on something completely different: "It's really getting hot in here, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, elevators aren't exactly designed to be waiting rooms for hours on end, Ben," replied Don. His eyes followed Ben's who had looked up as if to find the air vent and had frozen. He stifled a groan upon seeing the camera the SWAT team were trying to snake in. He tightened his grip on the gun when Ben hit the call-button and brought his own gun up to point at Don's head.

"Agent Reeves!" he snapped.

Megan's voice came through immediately: "I'm here, Mr. Blakely."

"What part of 'not wanting to be watched don't you people understand'?" Ben bit out. "Pull it. Pull it now."

"Mr. Blakely, just calm do-,"

"I will not calm down; do not _tell_ me to calm down. Pull it now, or in ten seconds you watch me put a bullet in your friend's head."

Don felt this was more than an appropriate time to jump in: "Ben, you're over-reacting."

"10!" Ben started the count-down, his eyes taking on a manic gleam.

"Mr. Blakely, ("9!"), you're just making the situation worse than it has ("8!") to be," responded Megan.

"Worse? I'm not looking at walking out of here alive, lady, so it makes no difference to me. 7!"

"Ben, you're going to make me shoot you," threatened Don.

"6! What's stopping you?"

"Ben, lower your gun!" ordered Don.

"5! I will not be watched," wailed Ben.

"Alright, Mr. Blakely, alright. We're removing the camera," said Megan's frantic voice. The two men in the elevator also overheard quieter command of "Pull it, Pull it!" followed by the echoing voice of Colby Granger saying "It's out, it's out," somewhere above them.

Ben blinked rapidly and began to lower his weapon, nodding his head and saying "Okay… okay," as he did so, calming down almost as quickly as he had fired up. Don, however, wasn't quick to follow suit, still keeping a firm grip on his gun, but lowering it enough so that Ben wasn't staring directly down the barrel.

After a few minutes of silence, Don asked a question: "So, Ben, where'd ya get the gun?"

"Oh, this?" Ben glanced at his weapon. "I talked to a guy who knows a guy who sells a few out of the back of his van. Been watching criminals long enough to pick up a few things, you know." He went back to leaning his head against the elevator wall, turned a bit to the side from Don.

"Yeah, I bet. And all this just happened while you 'weren't thinking', right Ben?"

This had Ben shifting to look at Don more fully. "Look, I meant what I said: I _wasn't_ thinking. I'm not stupid, I could have come up with a better plan if I wanted to."

"Of course. So, what you're trying to tell me is: in all the time it took to find a guy, buy a gun, get all the way to the federal building, which must have taken some time 'cause I like to think we don't have any gun peddlers in very close vicinity, you didn't say to yourself "Hey, I'm on the way to kill a guy," at all?"

"I di-," Ben began but Don continued, unabated.

"And, while you're doing your little shopping and making your way here, whoever is watching you doesn't think to tell Devane 'Hey, Blakely is headed your way with a gun'?"

"Look, I don't know _who's _watching me, I don't know _why_. I just know Devane is behind it all, alright?" yelled Ben.

"And what was killing Devane going to get you, Ben? You must have thought about that, at least?" shot back Don.

"I didn't." Ben seemed to have lost the fervour he had exhibited before, his voice now breaking and sounding scratchy. "I just… get so tired now, I can't focus. I thought… killing Devane, it could finally end, you know? Killing a federal officer… that's going to land me on death row. So, as far as I'm concerned, this ends here, today."

"You don't want to die, Ben," stated Don.

Ben snorted. "Oh yeah? What makes you think that?"

"Well, for one, you could have shot Devane more than twice, making pretty certain he'd be dead. And, in the meantime, you would've shot by pretty much every agent within ten feet of you. Forgetting that, if you really wanted to die, why take a hostage as a shield? Why even be in this elevator?"

Ben seemed to be lost in thought, and when he spoke, it wasn't in a direct response to Don's query. "You know, I don't think anyone understands loss until they're lost a child, not really. And once you truly understand loss… Even if I somehow do manage to leave this elevator alive, I'm looking at prison; being watched all the time in a box much like this one. So tell me, Agent Eppes, what reason could I possibly have for living?"

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Megan poked her head into the break room where Alan and Charlie were:

"Hey guys, could you follow me please?"

She led them to the war room and pointed at the flat screen which displayed two coinciding heat signatures.

"The fibre optic camera didn't work out, he spotted it, began to freak out. Our only other option is thermal imaging. Charlie, do you think you'll be able to separate these two signatures into Don and Blakely?"

Charlie, staring at the images, resisted the urge to say 'I told you so'. He had tried to explain to Megan that perhaps, not being able to see inside the elevator was for the best, but had failed in getting his point across. Megan had politely, and as patiently as possible given the circumstances, said that she couldn't just leave Don in there without any sort of back-up, and be blind if they went into assault.

"Yeah, I think so… When you said Blakely 'freaked out', what exactly did you mean?" Charlie asked.

Megan exchanged a glance with Alan, who looked as worried as his younger son. "It's not important, Charlie. How long do you think it'll take you to clean up the images?"

"Not long, but I can't guarantee that it'll be enough. If you allow me to explain, once again, the Chinese Room-,"

"Charlie-," butted in Megan. "Any other time, I would be more than happy to listen. But right now, Blakely isn't listening to reason, and David hasn't been able to come up with anything to prove that his shooting Devane wasn't part of an elaborate delusion. We are looking at assault; I need to know if there's anything we can do to improve Don's chances."

Charlie sighed, ducking his head as he accepted this temporary loss of the battle. "I'll do my best."

"Thank you," said Megan sincerely, clapping Charlie on the shoulder before walking briskly out of the room.

Going towards her desk, she grabbed her phone and pressed the speed-dial for David.

"David, please tell me you have something," Megan said as soon as David picked up the phone.

"_Agent Devane is fine; he's looking at making a full recovery. But… he's hiding something.__ He should have fired __Blakely__ six weeks ago when the SAC shut down the op. But Devane kept him on, and I think he's lying about his reason why.__And, __I__ just __checked out Blakely__'s__ apartment and… you won't believe it, but he's g__ot a whole folder__ on his computer__ full of video files__ of him being watched. The man was telling the truth, and he actually tapped into whoever was watching him."_

"Damn," muttered Megan, rubbing her hand over her eyes. "Alright, that's great work, David. Keep digging and I'll see if I can get Charlie to track down the people watching Blakely."

Megan had barely hung up the phone when an excited Alan approached her and said, "I need to show you something." Minutes later, she, Alan, Colby and King were gathered in one of the tech rooms and Alan was explaining his idea about the Schindler 400A elevators.

"-so if you raise its maximum speed-," said Alan.

"-Diversion," said Megan, understanding. "How far do you think the elevator will drop?"

Alan shrugged. "No more than… five or six feet."

"So we drop the box and my guys go in while they are still rattled, right?" King nodded his head in approval of this plan of action.

"I don't know… there's still a lot of a risk, guys" said Colby, hesitant.

"And that's if we know where they both are," added Megan, taking her foot off the chair and leaving the room, King following after her.

Alan turned to look at Colby, who had remained behind, opening up a bottle of water which was on the table and dropping into a chair next to Alan.

"I don't see how you do this every day," Alan commented, one hand covering his mouth.

Colby swallowed some water before asking, "What do you mean?"

"Having people lives in your hands, all the time. I mean, this elevator thing is my idea. If something happens to Don… I'm responsible."

Colby shrugged. "Well… yeah, but basically, that what it is all about. You take a few guesses, have some ideas, and pray that it doesn't blow up in your face. There's not exactly a How-to book for this kinda thing."

"I suppose… and I guess it's not always your boss's life on the line everyday," muttered Alan, more to himself than to Colby.

Colby stood up, clapping a hand on Alan's shoulder and he set down the water bottle. "Actually, a lot of the days, it is. But, the odds are on our side, Mr. Eppes. We'll get Don out in one piece, don't worry."

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Round Three of negotiations had begun, but there wasn't much change, or at least, that's what Don thought. The heat and close quarters were getting to both men who had taken off their jackets in an attempt to cool off as much as possible. Megan was putting all her profiler training into full gear, and Don was actually quite impressed by her smooth talking; it was almost as if she was trying to hypnotize Blakely into thinking the woman was always right, always reasonable and will you please get out of the elevator so we can figure out why you were being followed? However, it wasn't working very well, and Don's ears perked up when Megan said:

"-it's not like you can hope on a plane… and go to Mexico, Mr. Blakely." Without trying to appear too obvious, Don readied himself for assault. The code-word had been given; this was it.

For all of the advance warning, the sudden drop of the elevator still came as a surprise, but Don was able to recover quickly. He hastily twirled the gun in his hands and used the butt to hit Blakely on the side of the head in an attempt to knock him unconscious. However, Blakely surprised him by his strength, and soon Don found himself wrestling with both guns, trying to keep them pointed away from him. He didn't realize the hatch at the top had opened till he felt two bullets strike him. Surprisingly, the situation had reversed such that _he'__d_ been hit by the SWAT member's bullets, and perversely, Blakely's response was a defence for both of them.

Don thought he heard Colby shouting "Hold your fire!" seconds before the hatch was slammed shut and silence descended once more, the smell of cordite filling the suffocating atmosphere inside the elevator as he lay on the ground. While Don's thoughts were distracted by the pain in his chest, as well as the red blossoming on his upper left arm, he didn't immediately register the fact that Blakely was now in possession of both guns.

With the lights flickering about them, Don pushed down the pain long enough to lift his head and take stock of the current situation, only to find not one, but two guns pointed down at him.

_Damn. Wasn't I in this position last week?_

**TBC**

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Hope this was a suitable follow-up to the first chapter. The next, and last, part should be up tomorrow assuming I don't take too long recovering from the horror that is shoe shopping. Urgh.

Hope you all have a lovely Christmas :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**Numb3rs belongs to CBS and 'Chinese Box' was written by Ken Sanzel.

**Author's Note:**I. hate. shoe shopping. I wasn't happy with this chapter last night, but I think now, it's alright.

Oh, and before I forget, there's a really nice forum on this site, started by Alice I called "Calling All Authors" directed towards writers and would-be writers. It's, I think, on page 6 on the General Forums list. Check it out.

And also, thank you for all the feedback, appreciate it :-) Enjoy this last chapter.

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**No Quarter**

**III**

_"__Those who do not last are always more beloved since no one has to see them in their long, dull, unrelenting, no-quarter-given-and-no- quarter-received, fights that they make to do something as they believe it should be done before they die."_

-Ernest Hemingway

"Your plan didn't work, Agent Reeves. Now, I have both guns," proclaimed Blakely over the phone, a touch of glee in his voice. "I'm in control now." Megan had no response for this, instead looking at the people around her. Colby, uncharacteristically, was allowing his anger to shine through his facial expressions and his pacing the bull-pen floor; the SWAT leader, King, was looking less than pleased and was watching Colby as one who was about to go into battle with a caged animal. Her main concern, however, was directed towards the Eppes. Alan, at Blakely's words, had dropped his head in his hands, and Charlie had begun to chew on a thumbnail with a passion.

Blakely didn't seem to be finished with crowing over his victory, however, and Megan could hear him muttering to Don before her boss's strained voice came through the speaker phone:

"Everything's just peachy in here, Megan." She was not very surprised when immediately following Don's lie, she heard a beep which signalled Blakely bringing an end to the conversation. She had barely begun to think of another plan of action when heated voices reached her ears from her left:

"-trying to keep your men from shooting my boss," Colby was saying in response to King's words.

"My men are trained," defended King.

"Trained to do what? Shoot too fast?" fired back Colby and Megan thought it was high time to jump in:

"Guys! Not now." A minute shake of the head to indicate a very pale Alan and a wide eyed Charlie which was enough for Colby and King to stalk off in different directions, leaving Megan behind to clean up the mess.

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Inside the elevator, Blakely reached out one arm to hit the call-button before aiming both guns at Don again.

"Why are you lying?" Ben asked.

"Just call me Mr. Contrary," replied Don, using his uninjured arm to push himself into a sitting position against the wall.

"But I have both guns now." To emphasize this, Ben shook both weapons but his actions went unnoticed as Don's eyes were on his injured arm as he poked a finger through the hole in his sleeve.

"It only takes one bullet to kill," pointed out Don. "And it's not like you can miss in this small a space." Don looked up. "Can you?"

Blakely finally lowered the guns a bit and stepped away. "At least we both know where we stand now."

"I don't know about you, but I'm sitting down," replied Don. Taking a bullet to the vest and having a gun, let alone two, pointed at him really didn't do Don's mood any favours.

"You tried to kill me." Ben's voice was just a touch above a whine.

"Stop being so dramatic; if I wanted you dead, you would've been ages ago," said Don, pressing more firmly against the wound in his arm, wishing he'd worn a tie today so he could have used it as a bandage.

Blakely sighed, and sat down opposite Don, finally at eye level again. He steadied one gun on a bent knee, while he kept Don's Glock by his side, but his mind was elsewhere. Don was content for the moment with this break, and waited for Megan and the rest of his team to make the next move. This plan was shattered when Ben slid Don's Glock back towards its owner.

Don raised an eyebrow but made no move to pick up his weapon. "Ben, what are you doing?"

"There's no point waiting. I'm not getting out of this one alive. Shoot me," he said, motioning towards the gun.

Don had barely begun to shake his head when Blakely moved suddenly and kneeled in front of Don, bringing his own gun to poke the agent in the chest.

"Shoot me, or I will shoot you," ordered Ben.

"Vest," pointed out Don, trying to appear unfazed. His comment, however, led to the gun being pointed directly between his eyes.

"Shoot me!" said Ben again.

"No," replied Don, simply.

"Why not?"

"You're not a criminal, Ben. Yeah, you did an extremely idiotic, stupid, thoughtless thing, but that doesn't put you on the same level as rapists and serial killers. I am not going to help you commit suicide."

"You _won't_ be helping me, you'll be acting out of self-defence." To emphasize his point, Ben drew back the hammer on his gun with a '_click' _which sounded extremely loud in the small, enclosed space.

Megan's voice coming over the inter-com cut through whatever haze was in Ben's mind and he drew back as she started to speak:

"_Mr. Blakely, you were right. Devane __was__ following you, and we have proof and a confession. All you have to do is come down and get out of the elevator, and together we can put this mess behind us.__"_

Don had just begun to wonder if a diamond ring would be an suitable enough present for Megan in return of her timely interruption, but it was not to be, when Megan continued:

"_There's nothing else we can offer so… Don, the negotiation is in your hands now. It's your call."_

Blakely seemed to literally take this as a sign from the heavens, and he pointed the gun once again at Don with renewed conviction.

"Missed the part about the confession and evidence against Devane?" asked Don, although he didn't expect an answer. He picked up the gun, which had Blakely stepping back a little but not out of fear, and transferred it to the hand of his injured arm. He then used his other hand to grab the railing lining the elevator compartment and pulled himself upright.

Blakely eyebrows creased together when instead of Don pointing the gun at him, he holstered it.

"What are you doing?" he shouted as Don moved towards the panel and his fingers hovered over the call button.

"Ending this," replied Don, succinctly. He pressed the button: "We're coming down, Megan."

"I will kill you," warned Blakely for the umpteenth time.

"You shot Devane because you felt threatened. What's your excuse for shooting me? Not threatening you enough?" Don shook his head. "You wanna die, I'm sure SWAT will be more than happy to comply. But I'm not going to be the one to shoot you." Remembering that the feed was still active and their conversation could be heard by anyone listening upstairs, Don pressed the call button again and moved his hands towards the button for the ground floor.

"Are you suicidal?"

Don considered this. "If my shrink asks, I'll say I was hypoglycaemic. Face it, Ben, you're not going to kill me."

"What makes you think that?" challenged Ben.

Don shrugged with one shoulder. "Call it a hunch."

And pressed the button.

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Charlie followed Megan, Colby and the other SWAT guys down the stairs towards the ground floor, keeping far enough to not attract the notice of his brother's team members. If he did, he was pretty sure he'd be sent back upstairs with a glare and a command. He had moved fast enough that his father hadn't had time to voice his own protests. He hoped that the relief of Don getting out of this in one piece would prevent his being chewed out later.

Finally reaching the floor where the elevator would open, he carefully stood in the doorway of the stairwell. The bank of elevators were surrounded by SWAT and FBI agents so the chances of any direct threat towards him was virtually nil. Unless a stray bullet came his way, of course. That would not be optimal…

The '_ding_' of the elevator bell sounded, and the doors slid open. Each new sound had Charlie creeping closer and closer to get a better view, even though he knew he shouldn't. He didn't even know he had been holding his breath until he heard his own exhalation when Don's voice called out from inside the elevator car:

"It's alright. Stand down. I have both guns."

The effect of his brother's words were visible: there was a sharp decrease in tension, especially amongst all those agents in FBI vests and guns were lowered a few inches although the SWAT team was less inclined to follow. Don's next words were quieter, but in the silence, they could be heard:

"Just step out slowly, Ben, don't make any sudden moves. Colby."

Colby heeded his boss's command and moved towards Blakely who stepped out of the elevator with his arms raised, a picture of abject misery, confusion, and uncertainty, and handcuffed him. As Blakely was led away by another agent who Charlie had seen often around his brother's office, Colby accepted the gun Don held out before he even got off the elevator.

Sure that the danger was now over, and wanting nothing more than to make sure his brother was alright, Charlie stepped away from his hiding place and was only a few feet from Don when Megan stepped to the side, allowing Charlie to see the large, red stain on his brother's sleeve.

Don, on his part, looked relatively steady on his feet, considering, and while talking to his team-mates, his eyes would constantly dart towards Ben Blakely until he disappeared into another elevator to go upstairs and commence the interrogation, as if the day hadn't been long enough already.

Probably on Don's behest, Charlie saw Colby move to go back upstairs, but not before he saw the junior agent say something less than pleasant to Tim King, if the SWAT leader's expression was anything to go by. Don looked his way as Charlie approached and the young mathematician saw a range of emotions flicker across his brother's eyes: from a touch of irritation to mostly concern and relief.

"You shouldn't be down here, Chuck," said Don as way of greeting.

"You should have been at breakfast, Don," responded Charlie. This would probably be as close as Charlie would come at voicing his regret at what Don had to do for him, even though he knew that had it been anyone else taken hostage, Don would have done no less.

"You ok?" asked Don.

"I've been photographed all day, what do you think?" Charlie said with a grimace. He nodded towards Don's arm: "How are you doing?"

"I could really, really use a shower," misdirected Don.

Charlie crinkled his nose and sniffed loudly. "Amen to that, brother."

"Hey," protested Don. "Where's the sympathy? Injured man here." He moved as though he was about to swot his brother on the head when he realized that one arm had a bullet hole in it, and the other hand was covered in blood. Don looked behind Charlie and called out, "Hey dad."

Turning, Charlie saw his father come from the same stairs he himself had used, and from the look his father gave him, he knew he'd be hearing about his rushing to the scene of a hostile situation once they got home.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with using the elevator," Don grumbled as his father carefully gave Don a hug, in light of his injuries.

"Says the man who got shot in one," rebutted Alan as he stepped back.

"So if I say it, it must be true," responded Don. "But hey, if Charlie wants to use the stairs, it's fine with me. He could do with some exercise," he added with a grin.

Charlie responded with a heatless glare and side-stepped into concern as he noticed Don shift a little.

"Hey, shouldn't you be going to the hospital right now? Where are the paramedics?"

"Nah, Charlie, no need for a hospital. It's barely more than a graze, just need a bandage and we're good to go. Anybody in the mood for breakfast?"

Alan and Charlie both opened their mouths at the same time to voice their protests but were prevented from saying anything by Megan's timely arrival, a team of paramedics behind her: "Nice try, boss, but you're on the fast track to the hospital. Wouldn't want to stay behind and do the paperwork, would you?"

"Well, when you put it like that…," Don mumbled. He looked so dejected that Charlie had to laugh, and offer:

"Hey, you go with the nice paramedics and I'll grab some breakfast on the way, so you won't have to eat hospital food. Alright?"

"Best suggestion I've heard all day."

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Don had only walked a few steps away from his family when a hand on the shoulder stopped him. He paused, and turned to see his father behind him leaning towards Don's ear to whisper:

"I'm proud of you, son."

Don leaned back, confused. "What do you mean?"

Alan shrugged and continued in a low voice which only Don could hear: "Not just what you did for Charlie but… we heard you in the elevator with Blakely. You trusted a man, even at the threat of your own life, and saved his in return because of it. You… did good, Donnie. Who wouldn't be proud?"

Don smiled, crinkles appearing at the corner of his eyes. He didn't respond to his father directly but instead flicked his eyes to where Charlie was standing:

"When he had Charlie hostage, I would have liked nothing better than to shoot him. But… Ben isn't a bad guy, not really, and there are already too many lives I've ended, whether they deserved it or not." Don shrugged and made to move away, but not without a few parting words:

"Tell Chuck I expect a really nice breakfast, followed by lunch and dinner for a week, as a thank you."

**Khatum (The End)

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**Hope you enjoyed. Next in mind is a vicous plot bunny that is aching to grow. And if my muse is feeling co-operative, I'll a New Year's fic.

If I don't see you before the 1st, have a Happy New Year, and may the coming year be nicer and more wonderful than the one you just experienced. :-) Night.


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